


Avengers Daycare

by bossassglitch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers and Babies, Daycare, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossassglitch/pseuds/bossassglitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony stumbles upon a daycare at his tower provided for the working moms and dads of SI. The Avengers each have their turn visiting the precious babies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony

**Author's Note:**

> I probably shouldn't have punched out my first fic in the middle of the night, but please enjoy! I didn't edit this chapter because sleep. I need it.
> 
> Each chapter will center on each Avenger/SHIELD agent.

Based on this [headcanon](http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com/post/98069683827/here-have-my-head-canon-d-stark-industries-has-a-lot) from tumblr!

 

When Tony saw the brushed metal knob next to a sign that simply read “23” in a dull, bold font, he practically bear-crawled up the last few steps. He dropped to the floor under the sign, confident he wouldn’t get caught heaving air into his lungs since no one used the stairs anymore. The stairs were only for emergencies (Pepper used her Executive Veto Power, presented with the Blank I DARE YOU Stare, against his Emergency Slide Chute even though he had spent an entire FOUR HOURS perfecting the curvature and velocity and style of surface polish) and when a certain AI had been commanded to engage Tony Is Beginning To Slack In Bed Thus We Must Exercise His Glutes And Thighs Protocol. Tony really shouldn’t have given Steve access to create his own protocols and he especially shouldn’t have programmed access denial for his own override.

 

He hung his head and tried to focus on his breathing. His tailored slacks were sticking to him in the wrong crevices and he considered taking his clothes off. His tie lay abandoned on floor 12 and his coat made it halfway up to 17. It was like a weird combination of foreplay and endurance training, if anyone discovered them. He could imagine with no difficulty Pepper’s stricken face if he walked into that conference room in his undershirt, briefs, and Captain America socks. Hey, it was two more articles of clothing than the last time she caught him improperly dressed in a conference room. The socks. He was wearing the socks. Conference rooms get cold. He settled for loosening another button at his collar, and heaved himself up and through the door.

 

He was met with a wall of pastel orange, like a creamsicle, and it was instantly soothing. His heart isn’t on the verge of seizing to a stop anymore. He liked this change. Usually the hallways of boardrooms were a bland gray or dusty blue. He mopped his forehead and neck with a handkerchief, should at least TRY to look presentable, as he strode down the brightly lit corridor. He was absolutely delighted when the walls began to be dotted with… clouds? Those were definitely clouds. And they’re getting bigger. And fluffier. That was a blue jay. Another blue jay. Why does that giraffe have wings. It’s adorable, I want one.

 

Tony followed the wall, enraptured by the magical scene of a wispy orange sky with genetically modified creatures. His eyes ran into a corner and the unfolded story stopped. At the end of the hallway were double doors painted to look like a castle nestled on top of clouds. Of course.

 

“So Steve’s been experimenting with drugs again.” Tony let out a little sigh but reached for the castle doors, because when one is presented with castle doors, in the sky, one must open them and investigate further.

 

He first noticed the scent of SPF 50 sunscreen, waffles, and oranges. Then he took in the room. It was a massive space with areas partitioned and color-coded. There was a glittery rainbow in corner, that was obviously for arts and crafts, a giant knobbly tree in the adjacent corner, for nap time and storytelling of course, the third corner had round picnic tables, must be for dining, the last corner had a gorgeous ball pit, and in the center of it all was the most expansive and detailed cityscape, complete with bordering mountains, beaches, and deserts. And on that rug sat 16 pairs of eyes, 14 small and glistening, 2 big and unblinking, and all wide and staring right at him.

 

Tony had walked into a room of tiny little people. Children. A room full of children. Ranging from four to seven years old. Nine boys, five girls. He was in a daycare. His daycare. His company’s daycare. For the working mothers and fathers. Tony Stark was in Stark Industries’ daycare. At least he didn’t have to sit through that conference meeting.

 

“Good morning, children. Teachers.”

 

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” they chimed in return. A bud popped in the pit of his heart and its soft baby sprout tickled his insides.

 

“I was just, uh, visiting. Carry on.” Tony’s cheek twitched nervously when they continued to watch him. It was unnerving, it was like they could see past your bullshit and through your soul. They were dangerous. Tony still crossed his arms casually and leaned against the castle door. That seemed to break the curse, and the other occupants of the room fell into whatever Tony had interrupted.

 

Tony watched one teacher, the head teacher, he supposed, explain the Golden Rule. He had a pleasant voice and easygoing demeanor and he could see why the kids were giving him their full attention. He was like the favorite uncle you only got to see at Christmas and family reunions but he always got you the best how-did-you-know-I-asked-Santa-for-this presents. Not that Tony knew. He was like… a beloved general of a devoted army. The authority figure for this group of germ-ridden, saliva-dripping brats. Oh my god, he was like Captain America.

 

Tony tuned out the rest of the lecture in favor of watching the children’s faces. It was amazing how unguarded they were. Their personalities were getting their jumpstart at development and already they were giving out subtle cues displaying what kind of little human beings they were. Tony did his best not to think too much about how those same cues were getting drilled out of his system when he was their age.

 

His focus snapped back to the little crowd as the room erupted in noise. Tony winced at the peals and squeals of high pitched laughter and voices. The children were busy occupying themselves with mimicking the fighting poses and styles of the Avengers, taking turns saving each other and rampaging as aliens. There were girls shooting repulsor blasts and roaring their mightiest. Boys doing cartwheels and trying to wrap their thighs around the nearest friend. The smallest boy in the middle of it all, hand on his hip and barking out orders, each command coupled with a “please.” Tony tried his damnest not to haul him over his shoulder and march out of there. That would be kidnapping, no matter how justified he could try to make it.

 

Tony straightened when he realized the head teacher was walking towards him, a welcoming smile on his face. The other teacher was at the other end of the room, dragging over a large plastic chest that looked like pirate’s booty.

 

“Mr. Stark! It’s so great to see you here! My name is Michael.” Michael offered his hand like the perfect gentleman he was.

 

“Michael, please, call me Tony.” Tony grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Would it be too egotistical to think the Avengers are the favorite topic around here? I don’t care at all, that it might be egotistical. Because it is. I’m just curious.” Tony narrowed his eyes and cupped his face. “This isn’t some charter school that’s built around the Avengers, right? No weird worshipping thing going on here, all hail Iron Man, start them young, thing?” Tony gasped. “Are they… Do they… have certain special skills? Special deadly skills? Is SHIELD behind this? Oh my god, SHIELD is training baby assassins. Spy babies.” Tony gasped again and whipped his face around to look behind him, at the ceiling. “Is that one mine?” Tony pointed at a dark haired boy hoarding all the wheel pieces.

 

Michael did his best to follow Tony’s rambling and was too kind to interrupt. He held a steady smile and chuckled gently when Tony shut up. “Alright, I’ll call you Tony. James brought out the Legos for the kids; wanna join ‘em?”

 

“You’ve ignored all my questions.”

 

Michael only smiled harder.

 

“I guess I can do Legos.”

 

“Great! I’m going to go take care of some laundry, the Towhead Triplets peed on each other again.”

 

Tony watched Michael leave through a door at the side of the room and settled back on the loud mass in the center. He saw James lying on his side, resting his temple on his fingertips and watching the kids closely. Tony strode over, careful not to seem too excited, and sat down cross-legged next to the dark-haired boy he had rudely pointed at earlier.

 

“Hey, kid.” Tony would be a wonderful father.

 

“Hello, Mr. Tony,” the kid replied, eyes still focused on the project in front of him. He had a multitude of Lego pieces laid out in a grid pattern on the drive-in movie section of the rug. Tony couldn’t see a pattern to his layout but he kept his mouth shut. He began to pick up pieces from his collection and started jamming them together.

 

“Right. So. What’s your name?”

 

“I’m Robert. You don’t have to call me Bob. That’s weird.” Robert scrunched his face in distaste but continued connecting the building blocks.

 

“Okay, Robert. What are you making?” Tony could be a talk show host. He was a natural at interviewing.

 

“A car,” Robert said, his tone with a subtle implication of DUH. “It’s gonna be the fastest car ever!” Robert proceeded to stack his hoard of wheels onto his rectangle of Legos.

 

“Uh huh.” Tony watched Robert and tried to count to ten before taking over. He got to six and sat up on his knees to grab at the remaining pieces on the floor. “Robert, you’re doing a marvelous job, really, the physics on that piece of manual machine is… extraordinary, emphasis on the extra part, and the color coordination of orange and green you got going on there is spectacular, but, let me just, there.” Tony placed his red and yellow hot rod on the palm of his hand and held it for Robert to examine.

 

Robert’s jaw dropped in a comical fashion and his round eyes rounded even further. His eyes flitted back and forth from the little car to Tony until he finally demanded, “How did you do that?”

 

Tony was practically preening inside. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat, finding the spotlight he was born for. “It’s all about symmetry and balance, Robert.”

 

Tony took apart his car and showed Robert, piece by piece, how to build the simple little thing. At the third time around, a Lego structure that could only be described as a “fat letter T” crash landed into Tony’s crotch. There following a few whooping grunts and a “Bullseye! I built a quinjet!” Tony lifted an eyebrow at the blond tyke sitting at the other end of the rug on top of several stacked plastic storage boxes. He glanced at James but it seemed the caretaker was trying his hardest to ignore the child celebrating with lunges on his plastic tower.

 

“Don’t mind Jeremy. We love him, but we mostly pretend he's not there,” Robert said to Tony, almost sounding exasperated.

 

It took several tutorials but in the end, tiny Robert was an expert at putting together Legos to build the fastest car ever.

 

“You’re a quick learning type, aren’t ya?”

 

Robert grinned down upon his collection of fastest cars ever before cocking his head up at Tony. He seemed to regard him for a moment, cogs rotating in his head. He faced him with a shy smile and his dark round eyes locked Tony’s gaze. Tony’s lips moved, about to jump into panic mode, but Robert chose that moment to climb into Tony’s lap and rest his head on the arc reactor.

 

Tony stiffened. Robert snuggled closer. Tony saw movement in the background and regained his composure in time to catch Jeremy’s second projectile that was aimed at his head. “I built a SHIELD car!” he called. Tony saw that it was identical to the one he’s been showing Robert how to build, and was impressed that Jeremy was able to follow along from so far away.

 

“Mr. Tony,” came a groggy voice from below, “It’ll be nap time next. Can you stay?”

 

Tony couldn’t break eye contact with this tiny person that fit perfectly in his lap. He swallowed hard and brought his arms in a little tighter. “Of course, buddy. That’s probably a good idea. Steve will thank you, with his Captain America voice and all that.”

 

 


	2. Tony Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kudos and hits T^T Means a lot to me <3<3<3<3

Tony sat in Conference Room 3209, oddly still and silent. He was staring off into the distance, mind miles away, and because he was a terrific multitasker, he could see Pepper from the corner of his eye watching him carefully. And because she was an even better multitasker, she gave all the proper responses and noises to the woman at the podium presenting her slides, but her eyes always returned to Tony. There was an odd pull at her eyebrow as she watched Tony watch the wall, but he was present and quiet and technically well-behaved so she let him be for now.

Tony was doing calculations in his head, equations and lines scrolling through his mind. With the size and motor skills of the average toddler’s hands, using smaller lego blocks would be the only way they would be able to build the outstanding sportscar models he had diagramed last night. JARVIS was incredibly helpful and engaged with the project, especially after Tony was able to guide him around to end Steve’s cardio protocol because if that continued then Tony would have a heart attack and then Sir’s health would be greatly compromised. However, smaller legos meant 1. more painful when stepped on and 2. choking hazard. But what ISN’T a choking hazard? Peas are tiny. They’re choking hazards. Children are forced to eat them. Peas are edible. Tony must make edible legos. They need to be water-soluble. Not meltable… They need to dissolve quickly in case they get lodged in little Robert’s throat, or to teach Jeremy not to put things in his mouth.

“Tony.” Pepper’s voice was gentle, careful not to startle him. She had a worried look on her face, mind racing with bad scenarios and trying to decide which one has got him so placid.

Tony’s eyes jerked to Pepper immediately. He responded better to quiet, soothing voices. Quiet, soothing voices meant something catastrophic was about to happen and they should not be ignored. He gave her an All Is Well smile and scanned the faces at the table. “Wonderful presentation, Nancy. Funds for the self-sustainable prosthetics department will be increased 48%. I didn’t expect you’d be able to find the suitable alloy so fast. Good work, everyone. Please, excuse me.”

Tony launched himself from his chair, throwing a wink at Pepper’s slack jaw, and snapping his fingers as he strolled into his elevator.

“Santa’s Workshop, J.”

Two days later and he was back in the creamsicle walls of Floor 23. He was showered and neatly groomed by 10 in the morning, humming Puff the Magic Dragon cheerily, and enjoyed his fresh pot of coffee with a bowl of fruit Bruce silently offered him. Steve didn’t say a word either, and kept a wary distance, his eyes following every movement in case Tony was testing out another one of his Life Model Decoys because the last time didn’t work out too well for it and several kitchen appliances. And because his Tony was being chipper in the morning, with matching socks. Tony had finished his melon wedges with dainty fingers, threw a “Good talk, team” over his shoulder as he left for the elevator with a briefcase in tow. Even Natasha didn’t say anything, and she had BOTH her eyebrows raised.

He wanted to surprise the children, because surprises were awesome (most of the time), so he had piled his prototype Starko blocks into a bland plastic briefcase. He needed ample field testing. For science. When he burst through the castle doors, manners be damned, the kids were in the middle of learning simple addition and subtraction with pieces of fruit juggled between Michael and James. It was an amazing act, really, but there were muffled sounds as oranges, apples, bananas, and a freaking pineapple thudded to the ground. Once more there was a sea of round eyes on him, except Robert was already on his feet and bounding towards Tony with outstretched arms, face cracked with a brilliant smile and eyes squinty with glee. _He’s going to get premature laughing lines_ , Tony thought. _I must develop a skincare line for children._ Before he could think about scents for baby night cream, Tony had dropped to his knees and spread his arms open in time for Robert to fling himself into them. He buried his face into Tony’s neck and his laughter bubbled into the man’s ears. Tony found himself pressing his cheek on top of Robert’s head, because they fit together so perfectly damn it, and hauled the toddler up by hooking his arm under him. Robert seemed perfectly at home seated on the crook of his arm and held tightly onto the back of Tony’s shirt.

“I thought it was lego time,” Tony said, walking over to the rest of the children. He set his briefcase on top of a partition of cubbies without stopping, ignoring Jeremy when he latched onto his leg, expertly wrapping his arms and legs around Tony’s calf and catching a ride on his foot.

“Lego time is on Mondays and Wednesdays. Tuesday and Thursday mornings are for academic subjects,” a blond, freckly girl informed him. Tony only stared.

“Thank you, Gweneth. That was very articulate of you,” Michael said proudly. He helped James pick up the fruit from the floor and place them in a box. “Good morning, Tony.”

“G--”

“Good morning, Mr. Tony!” the class chimed. Robert emphasized the good morning by smacking a kiss on Tony’s forehead. _Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, that was too adorable, I am unworthy, don’t freak out._

“Good morning, class. Michael and James.”

“Making regular appearances, sir?” James gave him a knowing smile before deftly peeling Jeremy off Tony’s leg and helping Robert climb down to the floor.

“Uh.”

“It’s cooking time next. We’re going to learn how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. Care to stay?” Michael coolly asked. He was onto him.

“Sure,” Tony replied, scratching at his neck and trying to remain impartial. “I can… move some things around… in my busy schedule…”

“Alright, little ones, make a train!” James had his hands on his hips and waited for the children to fall into line behind him. “All aboard! Next stop, the Washing Station!”

“Choo choo!” the children crowed.

Robert grabbed Tony’s hand and led him along with the human train towards the row of three sinks by the arts and craft corner with the giant rainbow. When the first three children started washing their hands, everyone broke into song.

“Wash, wash, wash your hands! Everybody wash your hands! Rub, scrub, now my hands are clean!”

By the time his turn came around, Tony was singing along dutifully in a beautiful baritone. He was given a chefs hat and apron and put them on obediently before turning around to help Robert. He was surprised to see a train had formed behind him, with 16 expectant faces looking up at him. His knees weakened and he motioned for the closest child to come forward. Tony mentally whimpered and squealed--he hoped it was indeed mentally--at each tiny apron and chefs hat, and gave them all perfect bows and paid special care to have the hats sit perfectly on their heads. It didn’t stop them from going askew when they launched into reenacting the Battle of New York as they waited for Michael and James to set up the ingredients and cooking stations.

Robert tugged on Tony’s leg, getting him to sit down cross legged before climbing into his lap and folding his hands neatly on his own. He was completely malleable, this child could control him like play-doh. They watched the other kids for a minute before Tony bent down to Robert to say, “This is actually going a lot better than the real events. Trust me, I was there.” Robert turned up his head to give him a high-pitched chuckle and Tony’s fingers twitched, desperate to pinch those soft cheeks.

“I love cooking, and Mark is usually my partner, but you can be my partner today, Mr. Tony. I’m sure Mark will understand,” Robert said confidently.

“That’s very kind of him. Which one’s Mark?” That was most definitely not a tear in his eye and that was certainly not a sniffle.

“He’s over there, trying to sit on Jeremy. He’s always Black Widow when we play Avengers.”

“That’s… very nice.” _Adorable, cute, precious, I need a dentist._

“You heard Gweneth earlier. She’s talking with Don right now. Yuck, they’re holding hands. Cobie and Samuel… were right here a minute ago!” Robert turned his head left to right but gave up quickly with a little shrug. “They’re hide-and-seek champions,” he explained seriously. “Paul’s my bestest friend! He and his older sister Hayley are from Great England. Hayley is the Hulk right now. Anthony and Clark are being Captain America together. That’s Scarlett, she’s Iron Man for ever and ever. Evan, Hem, and Crispy are triplets. Crispy is the one braiding Hem’s hair and Evan is the one being sad because Sebastian punched him in the face during the Pledge of Allegiance. He’s in the Naughty Chair right now,” Robert finished, whispering the last bit solemnly.

Tony took in the information as if he was being briefed for a mission to prevent World War III. However, he was curious: “Hem and Crispy are their real names?”

Robert looked annoyed. Which was actually downright DELECTABLE.

“Hem is short for Hem-ing-way,” he said carefully, “because it’s a really long name. Crispy’s real name is Chris but he really really really likes bacon so we call him Crispy.”

“I see,” Tony said, cautious to keep the laughter out of his voice. “Why did Sebastian punch Evan in the face?” He swore Robert rolled his eyes.

“The Pledge of Allegiance is Evan’s favorite part of the day because he was the first one to memorize it perfectly and he likes to show off and shouts the whole thing and Sebby finally cracked and attacked him.”

Tony could not hold back at that, and threw back his head to let his throaty laughter escape freely. He settled down enough to catch a peek at the small brunette in the corner, knees tucked on the edge of the Naughty Chair, arms tightly crossed, and eyes glaring holes into the carpet. Tony lost it again and buried his face into Robert’s back, who was a dear and let him.

“Battle stations!” Michael called joyously.

The mini-Avengers cheered and scrambled to their cooking tables, Cobie and Samuel rolling out from under the giant bean bag chairs from the storytelling corner. Michael stood at the front, waiting patiently with a radiant smile, as James went around to fix everyone’s chefs hats--Tony’s included.

The children were surprisingly well-behaved throughout the lesson on how to craft the perfect, or acceptable, grilled cheese.

“I can’t wait to go home and make it for mama!” Evan exclaimed.

“I’m gonna make the cheesiest, gloriousest, grilled cheese EVAR!” Hem included.

“Hayley, there’s no cheese in your grilled cheese,” Paul noted, as dutiful a younger brother as ever.

“I know,” Hayley sighed dramatically. “Crispy ate it. But it’s okay. He said sorry.”

“I hate grilled cheese. I hate everyone! I wanna go home!” Sebastian made a show of crossing his arms as if to distract from his watering eyes.

“Aw, you don’t mean that, Sebby,” Anthony offered, bringing in his gloomy friend into a tight embrace. “Do you wanna talk about it?” From two tables over, Evan had his hand to his mouth, trying to cover his trembling chin and blinking rapidly at his forming tears. Scarlett brought him in for a hug as well.

Tony raised his gaze to the ceiling. It was all too disgustingly sweet. He could feel his teeth falling out. His arms slackened. His brain was melting. He was done for. There was a light pat on his hip.

“Mr. Tony,” Robert stage-whispered, “Can you eat my crusts for me?”

 

* * *

 

 

When the children were knocked out with their blankets and stuffed animals for nap time, Tony took this chance to leave. He crawled over each pint-sized body, brushing a light kiss on each warm forehead. He grabbed his briefcase on his way out, saluting to Michael and James as they silently waved goodbye. When he was through the castle doors, he ducked his head to enjoy a private grin that engaged all of his laugh lines. He brought his free hand to scrub at his face and walked right into a plush chest and mountain range of abs. _Steve_.

Steve grabbed for Tony to keep him from falling. Tony hung there numbly with Steve’s hands on his hips and grimaced when his briefcase hit the floor, the sound of spilling Starko blocks following. He plowed his face into Steve’s snug bosom and breathed in his scent deeply before letting it out in a sigh.

“Tony,” he started delicately, “You had me--us--really worried this morning. You wouldn’t pick up your phone. Well, that’s not anything new, but you never ignore _my_ calls. JARVIS brought me here.” Steve took this moment to look at the walls around him. His eyes settled on the winged giraffe.

“Tony, what is that.”

“A flying giraffe,” Tony said matter-of-factly, face still snuggled against between his pectorals. He didn’t have to look at Steve to know what he was asking about.

“Tony, what are those.” Steve was now obviously talking about the pile of Starkos at their feet.

“I can explain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you can see where I've gotten the names for the children...
> 
> I added 2 more kids!


	3. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Steve's turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the hiatus! I went on a road trip, got deathly sick, then moved back home from being overseas for a year! I'm still in the process of cleaning out my old room and unpacking my bags but I couldn't sleep and really wanted to get a chapter out. I'm sorry it's so short, but the sun's not even out yet and my brain just kinda fizzed out.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and all the comments. They seriously give me life.
> 
> I love you all

Steve really liked this shade of orange. It was calming. He would have appreciated it all those times his mother had to take him to the pediatrician, but walls back then all came in shades of beige, cream, and taupe. It had been a few weeks since he was last here, bumping straight into Tony and being a Good Boyfriend and listening to him explain. It wasn’t much of an explanation, of course; Tony rambled about how he totally doesn’t care about any of these brats but they are children of SI and must be well-supervised and yea okay they’re adorable. Steve had done nothing but smile his warm smile reserved only for Tony before pulling him into a cozy hug, tucking Tony’s head under his chin like how Tony hates and murmuring, “Okay, Tony.”

It was a year after the Battle of New York when Tony and Steve finally, begrudgingly, became boyfriends, as if they were obliged to do so. They bitched and moaned about it but in the dark hours of the night, they had their movie marathons flicking popcorn into each other’s mouths and whispered and giggled and were school yard sweethearts. They’ve been in a relationship for a little over than a year now, and spending everyday together gave Steve a pretty good read on his man.

People assumed that Tony was terrified of children because of his image. It was a given that if Captain America and Iron Man had children, Cap would be the doting mother and Iron Man would be the distant father. However, Steve knew Tony loved children, was fascinated by how their growing brains worked, felt inadequate and humbled of their love and forgiveness. Tony was not ready to be a father now, but when the time came, if there was one thing he would make damn sure to do right in this world, is to be the wonderful dad figure to his family his own father couldn’t maintain. Steve, on the other hand, was petrified of kids. They were so small. So frail. He grew up in children’s hospitals. Got to know the other regulars; tried to ignore when a familiar face stopped coming in for visits. But like Tony, Steve was amazed by these little beings, with their adorable personalities and adorable intellects, whom Tony had insisted irritably passive aggressively that he should visit. Which was why was he stood frozen in front of the castle walls, clutching at his plastic Avengers bucket of paint brushes and watercolor palettes.

This daycare was a testing ground for Tony but a battlefield for Steve.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t stand watching you stand there any longer.”

Steve dropped to a crouch, holding his bucket of painting supplies in front of him as if it was his shield. He had his hand behind him, fingers touching the ground, ready to brace his weight to kick out at the person’s legs.

“I’m… so sorry,” James offered blandly, mildly amused and not trying to hide it. He did ignore Steve’s furious blush as he helped him to his feet.

“You caught me off guard. I’m sorry,” Steve muttered, his head ducked as he tried not to burst into laughter at his embarrassment.

“No, no, no, I’m the one that’s sorry. Sorry.” James gave him a concerned smile. “Come on in, Steve. The kids are excited to meet you.”

Steve clenched his jaw and let loose a string of profanities in his head before giving James a proper smile. “Right. Coming in, then.”

His fist clenched on the handle of his dainty plastic bucket in the same way it did on his shield before entering hostile territory. He thought for a moment to don his Captain America demeanor but scrapped that plan--the children would see right through it. Captain America was for superheroing. Right now he was Steve Rogers, guest art instructor. He could think of this as an operation, and he had an oxymoron of a genuine cover. Natasha would be proud.

Steve set his focus on the giant glittery rainbow on the far corner of the room, making a conscious effort to ignore the sea of twinkling eyes below. In his peripherals he could see Michael and James preparing sheets of butcher paper and bowls of poster paint and there were three exit points in this room and ample cover for enough time to get the children to safety if the need came. Steve gauged Michael’s arms and judged them sufficient in case he had to hurl small bodies across the room to him. He bit his lip to keep from cracking into a nervous laughter as he got the sudden image of him throwing a gleeful child, arms outstretched like a plane, towards Michael as explosions happened in the background.

A small hand grabbed his and Steve let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Steve glanced down at the small boy grinning madly at him. “I have a crush on you.” Without another word, he led Steve to the glittery rainbow and sat him down on the stool there before sitting crosslegged in front of him.

“I told you it’d be the first thing Clark says,” James said to Michael, who rolled his eyes and unhappily handed over a dollar.

Steve was dazed. He swept his eyes over each child, trying to decide if he should be the cool uncle in his twenties or the kind grandpa in his 90s. He decided to take Tony’s advice and be the “superdork” he already was.

“Good afternoon, class,” he started.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Steve!” they crowed.

And then it happened. Steve was a goner. He practically melted. His eyes shot to Michael and James, as if asking them to confirm what he was feeling. Michael nodded and James shrugged.

Steve was vibrating with a newfound energy now. His face cracked into a toothy smile and that deep crease between his eyebrows loosened. His shoulders slackened and he could feel the children share looks with each other, visibly relaxing now that Steve was feeling more at home. He felt bad then, and wanted to scoop them all up--he could, if he tried--and hug his apology for making them tense. 

“I’m glad you all know who I am. I am very sorry that I don’t know who you all are, but I promise to get to know each and every one of you,” Steve said, earnest as ever. He decided to venture further, “Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!” they dutifully confirmed. Steve nearly teared up in pride and had to turn his head to take a calming breath. This, he could do.

“Alright, little soldiers! Are you ready to follow me into the pits of primary colors and jaws of simple shapes and patterns?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Are you ready to get down on your hands and knees and cover each corner of your poster with beautiful sweeping lines of color? Willing to look out for your fellow classmate to clean their brush in water before changing colors lest their palettes become a yucky brown?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! I believe you are ready to begin Operation Painting Is Fun. Fall in line and equip yourself with a brush. Please.”

The children jumped up and cheered in unison as they obediently stood in line to receive a special brush from Steve Rogers. He made sure to give them each a sharp salute. Most returned his salute, some rather hugged him, and Clark got on his tippy toes to land a kiss on his cheek. Steve crouched down and brought him in close for a talk.

“Listen, sport,” Steve started, grimacing at himself.

“I like basketball!” Clark exclaimed.

“T-That’s great!” Steve’s eyes lit up as he saw his chance. “You like me like how you like basketball, right?”

“No. I love you,” Clark said, managing to be serious through his even smile.

“But, we can’t, I mean, you’re like five--”

“Six.”

“--and I can’t even decide what age I am but either way I’m Way Too Old, and I’m with Stark--”

“I hate Tony.”

“--you’ll grow to like him, and do your parents know about this?”

“We have a running contest on who has a bigger Captain America memora… mem… me-mor-a-bil-ia collection. But I’m winning right now. Because I’m touching you.” Clark ran a clammy hand down the front of Steve’s face.

Steve blushed beet red at all the levels of wrong he was in and was at a loss for words.

“But don’t worry,” Clark continued. “I know it’ll never work out. As much as I hate Mr. Stark, you two are my OTP.” He gave Steve a crushing hug and winked at him as he left to join the other children at their massive donut-shaped table. Steve stared after him, unblinking and mouth hanging open.

“Oh my God,” he cursed to himself.


End file.
